Fledgling Destiny
by sanctuaryforascrivener
Summary: In time, Arthur will be the greatest king Albion has ever known. Merlin will be the greatest sorcerer to ever live. But right now, Arthur's just a prince trying to live up to his father's expectations, and Merlin's a farm boy just trying not to get himself killed. However, when one is meant to be a hero, fate will ensure it comes to pass. :: Series rewrite, season one.


**I don't own the show _Merlin, _am not affiliated whatsoever with the BBC, and make no money from this endeavor. See end of chapter for other notes. **

* * *

A being of questionable wisdom and unquestionable age once said, "No young man, no matter how great, may know his destiny." Merlin was an exception to this rule, insofar as he had known from a very, very young age that his destiny was in Camelot.

A legend in its own time, people called the city—kingdom, really, if one wanted to be technical—and it only made sense given how much was said of it. Camelot, shining city of promise, where knowledge was sought and found and kept recorded, where any craftsman could earn a decent living, and where the entire populace was protected by the most famed military of the five kingdoms, commanded by the Knights.

They were always described with a capital K, the Knights of Camelot. You could hear it in the voice of the wandering player as he sang for pennies (or, given the size and relative non-wealth of Ealdor, a crust of bread), and you could see it in the shining eyes of the village children as they played Knights against sorcerers.

Merlin heard different stories, but he was a different child, and such was only to be expected. His mother had threatened him with Camelot since before he came up to her knee—"Don't, Merlin, they'll take you away from me," and then, later, "Don't, Merlin, or I'll send you to Gaius." But Merlin had never been particularly good at controlling his impulses, and as he was an active teenage boy with an overly vivid imagination and a remarkable disrespect for all forms of authority, the only surprising aspect of at last being sent to Camelot was how long it had taken.

When he found out, Will had called it his exile. Merlin tended to think of it in more optimistic terms, seeing as he was legally allowed to come back.

"Just don't come crying to me when you get your head chopped off!" Will had told him, and shoved dead leaves down the back of his shirt. Merlin had chased after him, threatening to haunt him, to hide as a ghostly, severed head under his bed and talk to him when he was trying to get to sleep. He'd probably deserved the leaves, but Will had deserved the retaliatory dunking in the creek.

Will had seen him off the next morning, and if his eyes were red at all, it was because he hadn't slept well the night before, and the same went for Merlin's. Not because he was leaving. And _definitely _not because he might never come back.

Besides, Merlin rationalized as he crested the last hill between himself and the walls of the city, they couldn't be _that _bad about, well, things like that. Things like him.

Camelot sprawled under his feet, barely contained by the high defensive walls. The late afternoon sun colored the towers a pale orange yellow, darkening the turrets' pennants from scarlet to blood red. Smoke spiraled lazily up from forges and kitchens, and Merlin could, just faintly, hear the bustle below him as people and animals called to each other. He grinned and hurried down the hill, boots slipping and sliding in the scree of fallen leaves. He only had a few hours before the sun set and the gates were closed, and Gaius was expecting him today. It would be best to be punctual, to make a good first impression.

* * *

There were guards at the gate.

That only made sense. Camelot was, after all, a fortified citadel as well as a city, and kings did not amass power without making enemies, but they still made Merlin nervous. He strolled past them as nonchalantly as he could, drew no attention, and concluded that his mother's unnatural knack of knowing when he'd done something wrong was because she was his mother.

He was instantly distracted by the sheer variety of the market at Camelot. Bolts of cloth, trays of seasonal fruits and vegetables, the butcher's shop, an apothecary, a blacksmith, and all within a stone's throw of each other. And the _people! _

There were so many people, and all very busy with the business of life. A bunch of children ran by, vendors and customers argued about prices, there was a pair of girls giggling behind their hands and looking right at him…

Merlin abruptly realized he was gaping like the tiny town farm boy he was, and grinned at the girls, shrugging. He considered asking for directions to the court physician, since they had clearly noticed he was not from the city, but then a horn sounded from the citadel. Another answered. The noise of the market dipped, but quickly surged back to normal. Merlin was too distracted to notice everyone else's reaction, and as the horns came from the citadel proper, where he was going, he felt fully justified in indulging his curiosity.

A wooden platform had been erected in the middle of the courtyard, and a crowd had quickly formed around it. Several guards stood between it and the jostling citizens, and a slow, steady drumbeat began as a man was led out from a nearby archway. Merlin stopped trying to weave through the crowd to get a better look as he recognized the event for what it was: an execution.

"Let this serve as a lesson to all," came a voice from above, and silence fell. Heads swiveled towards the balcony overlooking the courtyard, and Merlin looked up.

The man put Merlin in mind of frosted iron, or the unyielding stone of a castle wall. And no wonder: the crown resting upon a stern and scarred brow marked the man as Uther Pendragon, King of Camelot. Merlin studied him, chewing thoughtfully on the inside of his cheek. Uther Pendragon was older than Merlin had expected, closer to sixty than forty, but still wore chain mail under his tunic and the distinctive scarlet cape of a Knight slung casually around his shoulders. He had lived through the battlefield, that much was certain, and something about the set of his shoulders and the jut of his chin suggested that he approached life the same way, as if the world itself was at war, and he was beset upon all sides.

Having caught the attention of his subjects, the king continued. "This man, Thomas James Collins, is adjudged guilty of conspiring to use enchantments and magic." Merlin swallowed, and glanced back towards the platform and the intended victim, Thomas James Collins, who had the sunken cheeks of someone who had suddenly gone for several days without food. "And, pursuant to the laws of Camelot, I, Uther Pendragon, have decreed that such practices are banned on penalty of death. I pride myself as a fair and just king, but for the crime of sorcery, there is but one sentence I can pass."

Uther nodded towards the guards, who brought the prisoner forward and forced him to kneel. As the drums began again, the king raised one arm high, prompting the hooded executioner to raise his axe as well. Both axe and arm swung down, and the crowd gasped, flinching away as Thomas James Collins was beheaded. Merlin watched the man's death in silence, trying and failing to ignore the trembling of his hands. And he'd thought Camelot couldn't be as zealous as he'd heard. Lord and Lady, how could he have been so wrong? _Well, _he mused, sliding his hands along the straps of his bag and hardly listening as Uther began speaking again, _perhaps Mother is right about learning to control myself. Do or die, here. _

"When I came to this land, this kingdom was mired in chaos, but with the people's help magic was driven from the realm. So I declare a festival to celebrate twenty years since the Great Dragon was captured and Camelot freed from the evil of sorcery." Merlin tore himself away from his thoughts and looked up at the balcony again. Uther had spread his arms, almost benevolently, and smiled down at the crowd. "Let the celebrations begin!"

For a brief moment, everything was over. Uther stepped back from the railing of the balcony, turning to go inside. The crowd murmured and began to disperse, but then a wail tore through the shakily restored peace. Nervous citizens backed hurriedly away from a woman, bent with age and staring at Thomas Collins's severed head. She wailed again, and rounded on the balcony. "There is only one evil in this land, and it is not magic! It is you, with your hatred and your ignorance! You took my son!" Her voice cracked as she gestured to her son's corpse with one arm. The other hand went to her neck, clutching at a pendant hanging there. "And I promise you," the woman continued, and a shiver ran up Merlin's spine, "before these celebrations are over, you will share my tears. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth—" she paused, tears in her eyes. "A son for a son!"

"Seize her!" Uther ordered, and pointed towards the woman. The closest guards started forward, but she only raised one hand, fingers curled tight around the pendant.

"_Windræsas and heofenas, ætbiraþ mec_!"Her eyes flashed, and the mother dissolved into rags and smoke and wind, leaving nothing for the guards to seize. Uther did not react, but turned away, cape swirling behind him as he strode indoors.

Merlin stared at where the sorceress had disappeared and felt as if ants were crawling over the backs of his hands. Her grief and fury had been palpable, and her magic strong, and there was something about that pendant, and there was so much about Uther _and_ about that woman that was just wrong... and by the time Merlin remembered that he was looking for someone and wasn't actually sure where to find him, the crowd had already begun to disperse, murmuring among themselves.

Shaking off his continued unease—it had nothing to do with him, after all—Merlin headed toward one of the passages into the castle proper. He stopped before the first guard he found to get directions to Gaius's chambers. Luckily, he'd been a lot closer than he'd thought, and Merlin took the spiral stairs two at a time, grinning in spite of the grim reminder he'd just had. His mother trusted Gaius, though it had been several years since she had seen him. Still, Merlin hesitated for a moment when he found the half-open door to the court physician's quarters. He knocked anyway, and peered into the room.

"Hello?"

No answer, and no one seemed to be there. The room smelled like rosemary, mint, and something else unidentifiable but with a sharp bite. It was also unspeakably cluttered with things that Merlin didn't recognize and had to assume helped with medicine. Several mismatched but sturdy tables took up most of the room, and their surfaces were scattered with round glass containers, dried herbs, boxes of more glass vials, a glass tank, ceramic jars, and so on. What little space wasn't taken up by odds and ends was covered with books and loose papers. Merlin pushed the door open, stepping inside as gingerly as he could for fear of knocking something over. "Hello?" he called again. There was a mask on the corner of one table, shaped like a rabbit's face. What that had to do with medicine Merlin had no idea. A set of rickety stairs caught his eye, and he followed them up to a small, wooden balcony lined with bookshelves. An elderly man stood on a small step stool there, inspecting the spines of several heavy, leather bound tomes. "Gaius?"

The man turned his head with a slight frown, but his distraction cost him his balance. With a shout, he toppled from the stool and hit the fragile looking railing and crashed through it. Merlin winced reflexively, his eyes flared gold—and Gaius's fall slowed to little more than a crawl. Startled (he hadn't really meant to do that), Merlin glanced around for something softer than the ground to break his fall. An unmade bed stood in the corner, surely belonging to Gaius. It was too far away to plausibly explain, but it would have to do. With a thought, it slid across the floor until it was directly underneath the balcony, and just in time. Time snapped back to normal as the bed stopped, and Gaius collapsed onto it was a disoriented grunt, the wooden remains of the railing clattering to the ground.

With a sigh of relief, Merlin stepped forward to ask if he was all right. The question was entirely unnecessary. Gaius was demanding an explanation before he even stood up. "What the—" He saw Merlin. "What did you just do?!"

"Um—" He faltered, caught by surprise. He hadn't exactly thought this far ahead.

"Tell me!" Gaius had certainly regained his equilibrium by now, pushing himself to his feet.

Lie. When in doubt, lie. "Well, I—I have no idea what happened," Merlin stammered out, looking around as if he were just as confused as Gaius. Gaius raised one eyebrow, and looked up at the broken balcony, before looking back at him.

"If anyone had seen that—"

"No!" Merlin assured him hurriedly. "No, that was nothing to do with me!" Gaius glanced to the open door over his shoulder, and his eyebrow inched higher. "That… that was…"

"I know what it was!" Gaius snapped at him. Merlin instantly stopped trying to come up with a plausible explanation, heart sinking. Idiot, he'd literally _just _seen an execution. "I just want to know where you learned how to do it!"

"Nowhere!" Merlin protested. Unsurprisingly, this didn't help.

Gaius peered at him. "How is it you know magic?"

"I don't!"

The physician paused, actually considering this. "Where did you study?" he asked, sounding more curious than angry. Merlin sighed. He'd _just _said this. Wasn't he listening? "Answer me!" Apparently not.

"I've never studied! Or been taught!"

"Are you lying to me, boy?"

Lord and Lady, this was worse than being interrogated by his mother. At least then he could say it was an accident and be believed. "What do you want me to say?"

"The truth!"

Merlin almost threw his hands into the air in exasperation, and settled for spreading them wide. "I was born like this!"

"That's impossible!" _Of course! _Merlin didn't say but dearly wanted to, _that's why I'm standing in front of you! Tell me more about how my existence isn't possible. Please, go on. _He frowned. This was exactly why he hadn't said so from the beginning—well, that and the sentence of death. Gaius glanced up at the balcony again, but turned back as something else occurred to him. "Who are you?"

_What?_ Merlin stared at him, before the change of subject clicked entirely. "Oh! Um, I have this letter," he assured Gaius, swinging his pack off his shoulders and fumbling under the bedroll. His mother had given it to him before he left, and it still smelled faintly like her, spices and flour and fire. He held it out for Gaius, who took it and glanced around himself.

"I—" A huff of exasperation. "I don't have my glasses." He suddenly seemed far less intimidating, and more like an absentminded grandfather. Merlin smiled slowly and tucked his pack under his arm. Maybe this could work, after all.

"I'm Merlin."

At last, recognition dawned. "Hunith's son!"

"Yes." His smile grew, and he nodded. When Gaius wasn't frowning or raising an eyebrow, he actually looked rather friendly, if eccentric. His hair, gone white with age, was shoulder length and frizzed, but his eyes were kind, and his hands were well worn and stained with ink and chemicals. A brilliant physician, his mother had said, and a brilliant healer. They weren't always the same thing.

"But you're not meant to be here until Wednesday!"

"It is Wednesday," Merlin said slowly. Had he lost track of time? Or had Gaius?

"Ah," Gaius finally said. "Right, then." He tapped one hand with the letter he still held. "You'd better put your bags in there, then," he added, gesturing towards a door and a small set of stairs Merlin hadn't yet noticed, given the distraction with the balcony. He started towards it, but then turned on his heel. It was better to ask than not, after all.

"You won't say anything about—?" he asked, and glanced towards the bed, then the balcony. It would probably need to be repaired.

"No," Gaius said slowly, following his gaze, before turning and giving him another piercing look. Merlin nodded and started up the stairs. A no was better than nothing, and definitely better than a yes. "Although, Merlin!" he added, and Merlin spun to face him again. "I should say thank you," Gaius finished, and gave him a small smile.

He wasn't sure what to do with that, so Merlin shrugged, and nodded, and continued up the stairs to the back room with the distinct feeling that could have gone better. But, he reminded himself, pushing the door closed behind him, it could have also gone a lot worse.

The room was sparse, but the bed was made and actually had a mattress, and there was a table in the corner, a cupboard, a chair, and even a nightstand. Merlin tossed his pack onto the bed, and followed it down, sprawling sideways so that his head and legs both dangled off the sides of the bed. His bed, he supposed, now. Assuming he didn't get executed or anything. Or that Gaius didn't decide he was too much trouble and just send him back.

Merlin stared at the ceiling in silence, hoping that didn't happen. He was trouble, even if it usually wasn't his fault, but he could hope he wouldn't be _too _much trouble for Gaius. He wasn't sure where he stood with the physician, in the end. His mother trusted him, and Gaius had taught her some—it was because of Gaius that his mother could read and write, and knew enough of herbs and medicine to save lives in his village. In a roundabout way, it was Gaius who had enabled his mother to find a home in Ealdor. After all, you don't run the healer out of town, even if she has a freak for a son. And his mother had taught Merlin as much as she knew, too. He raked both his hands through his hair and sat up again, stretching. Well, might as well unpack.

Two hours later, Merlin's bedroll was stored under the bed and his clothes had been shoved into the cupboard. He'd cleaned up a bit, and was lighting a handful of candles when Gaius knocked. "Supper's ready, if you'd like to come eat," the physician informed him, before turning around and shuffling back down the steps. Merlin followed.

Dinner was as awkward as Merlin had anticipated, and consisted of a stew of some sort and a hunk of bread to be split between the two of them. Gaius watched him carefully, probably remembering the earlier balcony incident. His mother's letter was open on top of a stack of books, and a pair of spectacles was perched on top of them. Merlin wondered what his mother had said, and tried not to fidget. In his desperation to say something, anything to break the silence, he blurted out what he had been turning over in his mind all day.

"There was an execution this afternoon."

Gaius raised an eyebrow, and Merlin could practically feel him wondering why he'd done magic if he'd just seen an execution minutes before. Merlin did not tell him he had been wondering the same thing. "Yes, there was."

"Is it required for people in the castle to…?"

"It is…" the physician considered the appropriate term, "strongly advised to watch and approve of the judgement."

Which meant he would have to watch, too. Probably. "Then why weren't you there?" Merlin asked.

Gaius pursed his lips. "Though my position as court physician means I am a member of the household and court, the nature of my work often interrupts my schedule."

"Did you know him?" Merlin asked. "Thomas Collins?"

Gaius paused, before shaking his head and leaning forward. "I did."

Merlin ignored the attempt to end the conversation. "Was he a good man?"

He earned the eyebrow. "He was a hard worker, cared for his mother and friends, paid his debts, and was caught carving a set of runes into his door, for protection he claimed during his trial," Gaius said at last. "Why do you ask?"

Merlin hesitated. "Afterwards, there was a woman, his mother… She said she would take revenge on the king by killing his son, and disappeared. With magic," he tacked on, unnecessarily.

"What spell was it?"

"Dunno," Merlin said, startled. "_Winderas _something. Why?"

Gaius raised both eyebrows this time, and didn't answer the question. "Is there a reason you're asking so many questions?"

"No! I've just been thinking about it."

"And?"

"And there was something wrong about it," Merlin said. "I just thought it was odd. I guess."

Gaius studied him silently, before shrugging and returning his attention to his meal. "Sorcerers and sorceresses often threaten the king," he said. "Many seek revenge for the Great Purge, but it is rare for any attempts to manifest. The last genuine attack was several years ago."

Merlin leaned forward. "What happened?"

"Several died, both knights and civilians. Eventually the sorcerer was defeated, overwhelmed with numbers. In all likelihood, the spell Mary Collins used to escape was too powerful for her, and she's died somewhere, without attempting her revenge. Either way," Gaius stood with a groan, clearing up their plates. "It's nothing to do with you, or me come to think of it. Help me with the washing up, and then you ought to get some sleep."

"Can magic be made stronger with—" Merlin started, but Gaius turned around and glared at him. "I mean, never mind?"

"Good," Gaius said, and poured out some water into a bowl. "What you must understand, Merlin, is that magic can and _will _get you killed. It's far better not to talk about it." He glanced up towards the balcony again.

And the heavens forbid he actually learn more about magic. Merlin sighed, but dutifully dried the dishes as Gaius handed them to him. As soon as he could, he was fixing that balcony, if only so Gaius could stop looking at it so pointedly.

It was well and truly dark by the time they finished and Gaius sent Merlin off to his room, but Merlin was too excited to go to sleep so easily. Instead, he shoved the table under his window and clambered on top of it. It held his weight easily, but wobbled enough that Merlin suspected one of the legs was shorter. He kept his balance through a miracle and a minor application of his magic, and unlatched the window, hanging half out the sill.

Merlin instantly forgot his misgivings about living in Camelot, his worries about Gaius, the fact that his mother and everyone he had known was miles and miles away. Camelot during the day was beautiful, inspiring, but Camelot at night was, well, magical.

He would probably be executed if he ever said the thought out loud, but it was nevertheless true. From his small window at the back of the castle, he could see the market and the houses, lit with a warm glow from within. There was singing from the tavern. Someone, somewhere, was laughing. There was a softness in the air, a sense of security. Peace. Happiness.

Home.

The thought that Camelot was more of a home to him than his mother's house, that he fit here better than he ever fit in Ealdor, came to Merlin too quickly to question and settled in as fact. But the thought itself was odd. He'd not even spent a full night in the city, yet, and he didn't really know anyone either, and he'd left his mother and his best friend behind. He shouldn't feel so safe in a country that wanted to kill him, at home in a place he hardly knew—

The table he was standing on wobbled, and tilted away from the wall. Merlin wavered and tried to regain his balance, only succeeding in slamming the table loudly into the stone wall of the castle. He clutched at the windowsill, panting slightly.

The quiet noises of paper shuffling, glass clinking against the wooden table, ceased. "Merlin?"

"It's fine!" he called back, and took a few moments to be certain of his own feet before clambering down again.

There was a distinctly skeptical silence, but his word seemed to be accepted as Gaius continued tidying up outside.

Deciding that he really ought to go to sleep, even if he wasn't tired, Merlin stripped out of his shirt and trousers, tugged his old night shirt over his head, and collapsed into his bed. It had been a long day, and it would be a long day tomorrow.

* * *

Under normal circumstances, Gaius would have been right. Transportation spells are notoriously tricky and demanding, and Mary Collins's desperate escape would have killed her. However, Merlin was right to suspect the pendant hanging from the hedge witch's neck, and right too to suspect it capable of amplifying magic. Mary Collins had survived her escape and fled straight to the High Priestess who had granted her the pendant in the first place. Though she had never been powerful, Mary Collins was learned in the old ways, and her loyalty had never wavered through the Wars of the Dragons and the genocidal Purge which had followed.

And for one grown so bitter by the betrayals of her closest friends, loyalty was a trait more valuable than all others.

The old woman collapsed as soon as the winds released her outside of the cave, and she lay huddled on the ground for several long minutes, overwhelmed with grief. A hand touched her shoulder. "What has happened?"

"They took… They _killed…" _she whispered, unable to voice the terrible truth. "Milady," she pleaded, looking up with tears in her eyes. "They killed my son!"

The woman, far younger in appearance than would be expected of someone with her power and authority, smiled sadly. "Thomas?"

"My boy…" Mary whispered, burying her face in her hands. "My poor little boy. How is it that they are allowed to protect their homes with all their strength and all their might, while we are forced to degrade ourselves to their standards!"

"Do not fear," the priestess soothed, stroking her white hair. "We shall have our revenge, Mary, and the king shall fall. And you can expect my assistance."

"Thank you!" Mary pressed her lips to her hand. "Thank you, Nimueh."

The priestess only smiled.

* * *

**So I'm rewriting the Merlin series. ...Yep. _Great _idea for my first fic in this fandom. Ah, if anyone is curious as to what I'm trying to do, exactly, and why, please take a look at my profile. There's a manifesto of sorts there, or an essay, but what it boils down to is that, as much as I love _Merlin, _I'm also deeply disappointed in the execution. **

**What this should be, I hope, is three parts novelization, two parts alternate universe/interpretation, one part plot hole filler, one part fix it fic, and one part exploration. **

**I'll continue posting whether or not people are interested (and I admit that this isn't that interesting yet, as it's not so much different from the show, yet), but I'll post faster with more encouragement!**

* * *

_Windræsas and heofenas, ætbiraþ mec!: Winds and skys, carry me hence! _

(I cobbled together my own spell, as I couldn't find it in either of the two different subtitles, the Merlin wiki transcripts, or the Merlin wiki spells section. Vocabulary pulled from an online Old English to English translator, grammar from an Old English text book and my rudimentary studies of Latin and linguistics, and sentence structure/word order from modern English grammar. If anyone who reads this far actually knows Old English and finds this glaringly wrong, please tell me as I've only just started my studies in the language.)


End file.
